


One million candle wish

by sinnabonka



Series: Something about birthdays [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family Feels, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, I'm just giving them what they deserved, It's a gift you keep those, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, me and my pal Cas share a birthday now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabonka/pseuds/sinnabonka
Summary: The wax is dripping down the candles and they get shorter with every moment passing by, imitating life itself. Cas thoughtfully watches the flames flicker, inhales deeply and blows.Everyone cheers, Jody playfully winks at him, asking what an angel could possibly wish for, but, instead of the answer, Cas gives her another warm smile:“It won’t come true, if I tell you."
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Something about birthdays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179914
Comments: 49
Kudos: 309





	One million candle wish

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's my birthday today (Feb 23rd), and I decided to celebrate it in the best way possible.
> 
> Come join us! https://sinnabonka.tumblr.com/post/643695246307442688/hiya-some-of-you-know-most-of-you-dont-but

After celebrating Sam’s, Jack’s and finally his own birthday, Dean develops a taste for it. His heart needs another party and it needs one _right_ _now_.

He checks the calendar on his phone, but as if the whole world is against him, the closest birthday (Donna’s) is not for another two weeks. He almost gives up, accepts his foreseeable future being totally joyfree, when suddenly hits him: there’s one name missing from his calendar, for obvious reasons.

He spends another day sniffing around asking Cas leading questions, but all he gets is a reminder of how the concept of time was irrelevant when the angels were created.

Cas asks him what all the questions are for, but Dean just shrugs. He manages to keep the smile out of his voice, throwing a casual “It’s nothing, forget it,” and leaves the room, his mind already rushing with ideas. He makes a few calls, and easily talks Sam into distracting Cas for a few hours, as far from the bunker as possible.

When the two of them are gone, Dean drives to the store to grab some party hats, beer, all the missing ingredients for a cake and something meaty to throw onto the grill. He pushes the full cart to the cashier, but stops when something suddenly catches his eye; Hovering by the shelf of candles for far too long, he weighs the options considering, then throws just one box in. There probably isn’t a cake in the whole world able to hold as many candles as necessary.

Later at the checkout, he’s dealing with another dilemma, but this one doesn’t come with a simple solution. He’s looking through birthday cards, his eyes attentive, his lips pressed in a thin line: too cheesy, too childish, too boring (and the worst of all), too wordy. He almost agrees to whatever the store in the middle of nowhere has to offer (total crap), but then his hand reaches the bottom of the box. He pulls the last card out and smirks. Yeah, that will do. 

Back at the bunker, Dean spends another few hours in the kitchen while Jack decorates the place with whatever he's found in the closet. He tries to blow up a whole bunch of balloons, but his head goes spinning after the third one, and he’s laughing, walking in a crooked line toward Dean. 

They finish decorating together while waiting for the cake to cool before frosting it.

Dean’s tired and his stomach growls hungrily by the time he calls Sam, but he knows it’s all worth it. He knows the expression on Cas’ face will be worth all the wait. 

****

When Cas and Sam come back, the place seems deserted. It’s silent and dark, and they wander around for a bit, peek into Jack’s and Dean’s rooms, call their name out a few times before finally reaching the kitchen. Sam’s thoughtfully hanging one step behind, when Cas, still passionately explaining something to him, turns on the light. 

_“Surprise!”_

A bunch of confetti explodes in Cas’ face and he freezes in the doorway, his fingers still on the switch. The warm ceiling light reveals all the familiar faces, smiley and blushed, with shiny bright eyes and party hats. Cas stares, confused, and it takes him a moment and a tight hug from Claire to figure out what's happening. There are more hugs, confetti, and a lot more party hats. One even ends up on the top of his head. 

“Dean,” Cas smiles softly, when Eileen finally let’s go of him. The line of people coming for a hug, a pat on his shoulder or a handshake starts moving. He shyly says: “You didn’t have to.”

“No idea whatcha talkin ‘bout,” Dean grins, with a curled up party horn hanging from the corner of his mouth. 

“The party. I have never had a surprise birthday party before,” Cas says quietly, as if sharing a little secret, his eyes suddenly glossed over. His face is warming up as he notably struggles with his next words, and Dean physically can’t bear the vulnerability radiating from him. There’s something alien piercing through the familiarity of the way his shoulders curl, and it reminds Dean of how little he knows about the true nature of Cas.

“Figured that much,” Dean says, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another and for a moment finding the dirty toes of Cas’ shoes too entertaining. He makes a mental note to ask Sam what excuse he came up with to keep Cas out of the bunker, but the thought flickers in his mind and quickly dissolves. He takes a deep breath, and his mouth falls open. 

“Cas might have all the time in the world,” interrupts Jody with a knowing look, passing by, “but some of us are still mortal. Wrap it up, boys.”

Dean frowns, and as an answer, blows the party horn into her ear. She slaps him on the shoulder with a burst of laughter, caught off guard by the noise.

“Winchester,” she hisses, holding her hand to her ear, “aren’t you a bit too old for this kind of crap?” 

“Me?” Dean looks almost offended. “Never!” 

He looks at Cas, who’s battling the smile with all his might, and hesitates. The moment is gone, they both can tell. The words sink like rocks to the bottom of Dean's stomach and he leaves the room in a rushing, blushing. Jody exchanges a quick glance with Cas and follows Dean into the hall, leaving Cas and Donna alone in the kitchen. 

“He’s forty two, for god's sake,” Donna huffs to Cas, shaking her head. “Still a kid. Always a kid.”

She pulls Cas into a warm embrace, and he fondly notes she has to go on her toes to wrap her hands around his neck. They stay like this for a bit. 

“Okie-dokie,” she laughs after a moment and steps back. “We better go join your party before all the yummies are gone.” 

Cas nods, a soft smile back onto his face, and before he follows Donna out of the kitchen, he throws a last glance at all the mess they’re leaving behind. The floor and the table are littered with paper cups and confetti, but he thinks he actually likes the bunker better this way - messy, sure, but also thronged with life, colorful.

****

The room is filled with laughter, cheerful voices overlapping and composing into the perfect symphony, the one Dean’s been missing out on his whole life. He leans against the wall, arms crossed on his chest, and lets it take over. His eyes are closed as he drowns in the moment allowing the tension to leave his body, calm contentment slowly sipping in to take its place.

“Move,” comes Claire’s voice, pretending to be irritated.

"It's my place," Jack argues back. "I came here first."

Dean snickers, noting how much the two remind him of he and Sam sometimes.

When Dean pushes himself back into consciousness, the table is already set and his brother is tapping a fork to the side of his glass. Sammy’s hand is tightly wrapped around Eileen’s shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, Dean notices the way his eyes are shining with tears pooling up as he proposes the first toast.

“If anyone asked me fifteen, god, even ten... _five_ years ago, what I’d be doing today, I’d never guess,” Sam smiles, when his words are met with laughter. “I definitely wouldn't have guessed I'd be wearing a silly paper party hat, drink in hand, celebrating the birthday of a celestial being. Yet here I am."

His eyes finally land on Cas, and he raises his glass: “To Castiel, the angel of the lord, who, apparently, likes us enough to let us dress him up in ridiculous hats and make him a part of our silly customs. And our crazy family. Happy birthday, man!”

“Happy birthday!” shouts everyone, raising their drinks of choice to the ceiling. For a moment the room fills up with melodic glass on glass clicking. Someone blows a party horn, which triggers another wave of laughter -- music to Cas’ ears.

“Nothing about this custom is silly,” he protests in a quiet voice, his words not meant to be heard. Cas downs his drink with a smile. 

From the other side of the table, he catches Claire looking at him - fondly, shyly, and he can’t think of any reason he deserves to be looked at like that. How he can deserve the warmth of her smile, of all their smiles, and the lack of judgment in their eyes pointed on him? It seems too good to be true, too precious for him to afford. Yet somehow he does, somehow his thorny path has brought him into this room and this family, and there’s no way he chooses anything over it ever again.

****

Cas’ smile seems permanent by the time they are done with the food, the beer, all the hugs and cheek kisses. 

_It’s a good look on him_ , notes Dean on his way to the kitchen.

When he comes back holding a cake with a dozen lit candles, everyone starts singing. Cas finally gives up and the tears that have been shining in the corners of his eyes the whole evening come streaming down his face. 

Dean’s heart is loud in his throat, and he can’t squeeze a single word of the simple lyrics out. He keeps smiling and looking at Cas, though, trying to catch, absorb, take in every tiniest emotion flashing across his face. 

When Cas finally looks up at him, Dean’s taken aback by the warmth, love, and gratitude in his eyes. The candlelight casts dancing shadows on his face, and something inside Dean aches at the image. He swallows the feeling and flashes a cheeky smile.

“Make a wish,” reminds Sam, nudging Cas with his elbow. “And blow the candles.”

“Is it necessary?” Cas frowns. “I can’t think of anything now, Sam. I already have everything I could ever wish for.”

“Think harder,” Sam laughs.

“I’m sure there’s something,” adds Jack, expecting. 

The wax is dripping down the candles and they get shorter with every moment passing by, imitating life itself. Cas thoughtfully watches the flames flicker, inhales deeply and blows. 

Everyone cheers, Jody playfully winks at him, asking what an angel could possibly wish for, but, instead of the answer, Cas gives her another warm smile.

“It won’t come true, if I tell you,” he explains. 

Even on such short notice, everyone has brought presents, and Cas accepts all of them with a shy smile. He has no idea what to do with his hands in between hugs, so keeps fidgeting with the tail of his tie.

Dean is the last one in the line, and his eyes are drilling holes in front of his boots, his face growing hotter with every second as he approaches with a gift in his hand. He mumbles something half awkward, half sweet, and he’s gone before Cas has a chance to respond. 

****

****

The crowd starts spreading around the bunker. The place has enough beds and couches for everyone, and Sam and Eileen escort the guests to their rooms. The lights go off one by one, only the kitchen is still dim-lit with the lonely lightbulb above the table, when Dean sneaks in to steal another piece of cake while no one is around to judge. He spends some time looking for a clean fork, but ends up using a big weird looking ancient silver spoon instead. 

With a mouthful of chocolate cake, he moans his appreciation into the undisturbed quietness of the bunker, when the floor creaks behind his back. Dean sharply turns around. Cas is hovering in the doorway, holding Dean’s card in his hand. He’s wearing Dean’s old t-shirt and PJs Claire got him as a present, and for a moment Dean can’t tear his eyes off of the little bees on them.

“I know what I want as my gift,” Cas says with a smile, and Dean swallows loudly. Cas adds promptly, “Nothing weird, as you requested.”

“Nothing weird”, Dean echoes, his mouth suddenly dry. He puts the plate onto the counter, for a moment turning his back to Cas, and feels grateful for the short pause. He licks the chocolate frosting from his thumb and takes a steadying breath.

“Can we get it at the local store?” he asks as his glance flickers down to his watch. “Everything is probably closed tonight anyway.”

“That’s okay,” Cas starts, suddenly unsure of his idea, but with a little extra effort he manages to push himself over the hesitation. “We have everything we need here.”

“Okay,” Dean looks over his shoulder to make sure they are still alone. “What does the angel of the lord wish for his b-day, then? Something from the men of letters’ vault? Are we talking the shit Sammy’s hiding in that creepy box under his bed? Ooh, is it that shiny thing you two were playing with the other day that almost took Sam’s head off?”

Cas doesn’t answer. He stares at Dean, as if seeing him for the first time, his face pale, a perfect portrayal of hesitation and embarrassment in equal proportions. Time flies and Dean starts to freak out, so he decides to try breaking the silence with a demanding: “Cas, _what_?”

Cas shifts from one foot to another, and Dean feels his stomach fall; It's not everyday that an angel looks so nervous. 

Cas’ eyes keep searching Dean’s face, then lips, the tip of his tongue peeking out nervously.

 _Oh_ , Dean exhales sharply, understanding.

Before his mind raises the walls of doubt or spirals down to anxiety, Dean takes a quick step toward Cas. He softly grabs Cas’s face with both hands, his thumbs resting against his cheekbones, and peers into his eyes, waiting. Cas doesn’t object, so Dean inches closer.

The kiss is hesitant and awkward at first, and Dean regrets rushing into it, his mind doing what it does best -- multiplying the doubt. Cas’ hand slowly comes up onto Dean’s chest, right above where his confused heart is racing, and the warmth of his wide palm pins him in place, like a bug.

They slow down, chasing the pleasure. Cas tilts his head a bit to the right, and Dean follows. They kiss deliberately, as if the world ceased to exist for a moment. They don’t notice Sam sharply turning on his heels in the doorway, escaping the scene, blushing.

The kiss ends, but they stand still with their eyes closed, breaths short, foreheads touching. The silence of the room is fragile, and it shutters when Dean clears his throat.

“Happy birthday,” he says, voice hoarse, when the cold panic lets go of his throat. Cas’ eyes fly open and he huffs a laugh, glancing at the nervous expression on Dean’s face, as he asks, “Did I get that one right? Was it the gift you wanted?”

Delaying the answer, Cas looks down with a smirk. His hands are wrapped around Dean’s waist as he builds the courage to finally say: “Yes, it was. It was everything I could wish for, even slightly more, Dean. Thank you.”

“Well, don’t tell Sam,” Dean says, happy with himself, his lips curved into a smile. “Let the kid believe a book is still the best present.”

Cas smiles. The warm feeling inside his chest grows bigger.

Angels don’t have birthdays. Castiel never did. But Cas does, and he’s been born not with a cry, like a child, and not with a bang, like a star, but with a gentle kiss in a dimly lit kitchen. 


End file.
